


Rattle This Ghost Town

by SpaMightWrite



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, Opposites Attract, Pining, Tyler is being a little bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 11:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11805264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaMightWrite/pseuds/SpaMightWrite
Summary: There's just something about Solomon Crowe that Tyler Breeze can't get out of his head.Oh no, he's hot.





	Rattle This Ghost Town

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QUADZER0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QUADZER0/gifts).



> For the talented and awesome Quadzero/reinmeka. Shout out to everyone else in rarepair hell!
> 
> Occurs in a nebulous time period between 2014 and 2015.

“UGH.”

It was the first thing anyone said about that newcomer as he first walked into the vast gym of the Performance Center. Even before Kalisto strolled over to greet him with that weird man-hug thing that indie guys always did, that scoff issued forth from Tyler Breeze’s perfect, pursed, and moisturized lips.

Solomon Crowe, as it appeared, had finally decided to show his face during peak gym hours.

Tyler _guessed_ he’d heard of him before he arrived, under a slightly more mundane name. And until then the guy tended to skulk around at night by himself outside of group activities. But Tyler had to wonder if he'd always looked… well, like a total and complete uggo. He clearly dyed his hair that jarring black at home and applied it himself; his roots would show and make him look like he was balding when it turned out he was just naturally blond. Either way it was clearly fried to hell and back, _gross_. And he always wore stupid black tank tops with tacky graphics to practice, as if graphic shirts and tank tops were always in fashion _which they most certainly were not_. And the bandanas! Tyler could scarcely even think about the bandanas, which he was sure God himself invented just for the purpose of making people’s foreheads look too small.

Plus the way he acted was just inappropriate, like an overgrown child who thought bodily functions were the only funny thing on the planet. His stupid gravelly voice was always just a few decibels above acceptability, too.

Yet he didn't seem completely unsalvageable. Anyone could benefit from a change of style, maybe more fitted tees to show off his muscles, a more natural black dye with regular touch-ups in the roots. It's not like he was disfigured, either, he had one hell of a pair of baby blues and a jaw many people could be jealous of. The dash of freckles across his nose was almost cute. Or it would be if the person they belonged to didn't constantly spit tobacco juice into an empty soda bottle.

“Ugh,” Tyler repeated to himself, shuddering as he imagined talking to him. He probably smelled terrible. He probably spit when he talked. He probably kissed like an overstimulated pit bull.

 _Wait, what?_ He realized then he was still gazing at the other man across the room, all the while accidentally thinking about him in unnecessary detail.

Following a sickening flutter in his chest, Tyler shook his head of such disgusting intrusive thoughts and turned back to his phone, jacking up the speed on his treadmill. _Gross gross gross_. How that even crossed his mind, he didn't really care to know.

There was no way. Not in a million years. Not even if he turned out to be nice.

He turned out to be nice. Tyler overheard him giving tips to one of the trainees and praising him for how he was doing. As he walked by to refill his water bottle, Tyler noticed him spotting for Rich Swann and joking with him as they did so. And when Tyler tripped over the foot of a lat pulldown machine while he was distracted, Crowe asked him if he was okay. Tyler nodded at him and moved on, embarrassed on several levels. Throughout all of this, Crowe sounded so unapologetically genuine, just so very much himself.

 _Still._ Ugh.

Crowe happened to be the only other guy in the locker room when Tyler finished working out. The other one had already showered so his frizzy mane was dripping like a wet rat. He hadn’t bothered getting dressed again, though, so he was just sitting there in a pair of boxers and a towel on his shoulders, like some kind of delinquent.

Tyler wrinkled his nose but flattened his expression as soon as Crowe glanced up from his phone to look at the open door of the locker room.

“‘Sup,” Crowe growled, probably not on purpose, since that's just what he sounded like.

“ _Whatever,_ ” Tyler uttered before he could stop himself, flipping his hair and walking right by. It eased the tension in his stomach for the time being to just be rude for a second. He wasn’t sure why.

The other one snorted with sudden laughter, which managed only to piss off Tyler even more. Crowe turned to watch Tyler stride by him and quipped, “Damn, man, I ain't even done anything yet.”

“ _You don't know that_ ,” Tyler snapped back at him, venom dripping from between his teeth. “Try looking in the mirror sometime, maybe then you'll understand.”

“What, you offended just from me showin’ my face?”

Tyler sighed, as if it had been obvious to everyone but Crowe. “Yes, so you do get what I'm saying.”

Crowe could have been indignant or angry or insulted but he was just _amused_. The absolute boor with his stupid crooked grin. “Sorry, but workin’ out with a mask on ain't my kinda thing.” He shrugged. “Guess you just gotta deal with staring at this ugly mug from now on.”

“Who the hell is staring?!” Tyler almost threw his bag down but remembered it was Gucci and settled for making a heated hand gesture.

“You were, earlier. Or was there some other pretty boy makin’ eyes at me I ain't aware of?”

Tyler's cheeks bloomed hot. He took a deep and indignant breath before exclaiming, “I wasn't staring at you! I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU'RE ALIVE!” With that, Tyler stomped off to the other side of the lockers and conducted his business out of Crowe’s line of sight. He expected to be left alone after that but no, he _kept talking_.

“Still here, dude, even if ya can't see me.” Crowe _sounded_ like he was still smirking. The fiend.

“Okayyy, whatever, John Cena, I don't even care. Just do whatever you're doing in here and leave me to my business, okay?”

Tyler heard Crowe snickering. “All right. Whatever you say, your majesty.”

Haha, Tyler thought, fighting the urge to yell again. _Because I’m Prince Pretty. I get it. Very funny. Mangy dumpster fuck._

Tyler, _graciously_ he might add, let Crowe have the last word in it. If anything, just to end the stupid conversation for good. He let out a sigh of relief when he heard footsteps followed by the locker room door squeaking open and shut a few minutes later. Finally, he could shower, get home, and never think about Solomon Crowe again.

~

It was 11:37 PM and Tyler was thinking about Solomon Crowe again. God dammit.

Tyler hadn’t slept for a single moment since he laid his head on the pillow. He was full of excess energy and it was too damn hot under the covers for no reason that Tyler would admit to himself. He kicked the blankets off of his legs and sat up, huffing out a breath and grabbing his phone off of the nightstand. Maybe looking at photos of himself would help him calm down.

In turning the screen on, he realized there was a text message from Xavier he hadn't opened yet. It was something about that stuff on YouTube he wanted to start doing. Tyler planned to get back to him with his schedule in the morning, but since he was already up…

“Whenever you're home next just let me know,” Tyler typed out. “I'll see if I'm free to play.”

He sent it and lingered on that screen for a minute or so. The phone indicated that Xavier read the text. Before his friend could respond, and before he could stop himself, Tyler typed up another message and sent it.

“Is it possible to hate someone so much that it consumes your every thought?” He hadn't planned to discuss this with anyone. It seemed too stupid to even talk about. But if he trusted anyone with this embarrassing information, it was Xavier Woods.

It was another minute before Xavier replied: “Who do I have to fight? (ò_óˇ)9”

Tyler scoffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. At least this was putting him in a better mood. He immediately sent “Nobody. Yet.” and then took a few more minutes trying to put everything into words.

“There's this guy at the PC. He's gross. Like, ‘brings his tobacco-spit-filled plastic bottle to the break room during lunch’ sort of gross.” He sent that one before sending several more points individually as he thought of them. “And his hair is like a bale of hay ran through a shower of black spray paint.” “And he dresses like he fell into a burned-down Hot Topic.” “And he’s constantly shouting about piss.” He was throwing out another description when he saw Xavier’s reply come in.

“I get the idea. He offends you.”

Tyler threw his hands in the air and huffed. At least someone understood. “Yes. I become sick just looking at him. My stomach even starts lurching and I get palpitations.”

“Maybe try not looking at him????（´-`）.｡oO” Xavier even threw in a thoughtful emote at the end. As if the whole answer was so obvious. Maybe he didn't quite get it.

Tyler furiously beat his next message into the keyboard, the constant taps echoing into the darkness. “That's the problem! I can't stop! It's like he's such a train wreck I can't even look away from him. I've never been so confused in my entire life. Woodsy, what the hell is wrong with me? Am I some kind of masochist??”

His heart started skipping again as he awaited Xavier’s response. It took several minutes before he received a rather long paragraph of text, so long he had to scroll up to read it all.

“Breezy. Bear with me a second but I might have an idea what the problem is. You remember back when Paula Abdul had a music career? And she had that one video where she had a duet with some kinda cartoon alley cat? The idea was that Paula was this classy, unattainable beauty with really high standards, and the cat was a guy with street smarts and wore a white tank top with suspenders. But she was still all about it, you know? That scruffy-as-hell cat was a catch as far as Paula was concerned.”

Tyler read through it several times before he gave up. Maybe he was too flustered to focus on the message but he couldn't get what Xavier was trying to say. “He's not a cat. This doesn't even apply.” was the only reply he could think of.

“Just forget about the cat thing, it isn't the point.” Xavier sent back. “The song is called ‘Opposites Attract’. Think about it - when was the last time you had that kind of feeling in your gut at the same time your heart was pounding?”

Not for a while. Not since FCW, Tyler recalled. When he first laid eyes on his tag team partner, Leakee, now known as Roman Reigns. That hair, that chiseled face, the smile that could melt an iceberg. That wasn't hard to understand, given that Leakee was - still is - gorgeous as hell. He'd be stupid not to be attracted to--

 _Oh. Fuck,_ Tyler thought.

Tyler was _definitely_ too flustered now. He couldn't get a reply in before Xavier continued: “You crushed pretty hard on Roman way back when if I recall correctly.”

“You do,” Tyler acknowledged in his response. “But that is so different! Roman’s unbelievably handsome. He at least kinda knows how to dress himself.”

“There was some stuff with him you complained about, though. I remember that too.”

True. Roman had quite a different personality than Tyler. He was a little too laid back sometimes, he hung out with people like Ambrose who was a disaster on a few levels (especially fashion), plus when he and Ambrose got drunk they got into some very undignified shenanigans.

Tyler conceded, “Yeah, I suppose. But he was so cool, you know? He didn't care what anybody thought. That's why I still pined for that beautiful bastard, he didn't let anybody or anything get to him. That's attractive! He's nothing like Crowe.”

“Crowe??????”

_Oh double fuck._

“Shut up, you read nothing,” Tyler bashed out. “Forget this happened! Delete this entire conversation! I will sell all of your consoles if you even utter that name to anybody else!!”

“What name? What are we even talking about? Suddenly I can't remember… ;P”

Tyler breathed a sigh of relief and shoved his hand through his bangs. If this wasn't so serious Xavier might have teased him for it. Thank goodness he knew to be nice this time.

“But seriously,” Xavier continued. “Sounds like this mystery person has his own way of not giving a fuck. That seems to be something you like in people. If he isn't a total asshole then don't stress it. Keep thinking about what/who you might want but don't let it take over your life. And I'm always around if you need to vent again.”

“Yeah.” Tyler replied, settling back down on the pillow. “Thanks for listening. And for your discretion.”

“(^_−)~* No problem. Now go to sleep, sheesh!”

Tyler chuckled and sighed before setting his phone back on the side table. He'd have to face Crowe again tomorrow, after this disturbing revelation. He wasn't dreading it, necessarily. But he was definitely not looking forward to it, either. What the hell could he even say to the guy after that exchange in the locker room? Would he even want to speak to him after that?

Tyler rolled over and closed his eyes. At the very least, he could start by trying to be less of an asshole, himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Also let me apologize for the abundance of Gilligan cuts in this. And also Tyler's line, "I'm not staring, I don't even know you're alive!" is borrowed from a very old Nancy strip of all places.


End file.
